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The Mid-War Sessions Raw
The Mid-War Sessions By Christopher J. Bradley Completed: Wednesday, August 07, 2002 Foreword: Thank you for reading, in advance, seriously. In light of the fact that fewer people are reading or voting these days, it is important to remember that the First Amendment should not be taken lightly, and that every person who has an opinion should learn to find their voice. I hope that my voice is loud enough for even just one person out there who might not be fully represented. At present, the United States government is in a War with Terror. When will this war end? It is unlikely we will know soon, is the answer we have been given. With the knowledge that we are all now given a global platform to speak our minds, I encourage you to share this work internationally, and to translate it. Perhaps by sharing in this way we might meet someday, in some words from Oasis as I spoke with a soul named Eva this evening “In a Champagne Supernova in the Sky.” I am looking to you for parcels of truth, just as you are seeking them from me. Please join me in celebrating the life we live, even given the restricted freedom we have had in these carefully measured times, and let us all give thanks to those who have guided us toward spiritual enlightenment, in any peaceable faith known to man. And for those of you who just like my ranting about the women I would like to meet, “Make Love, Not War!” It works! Seriously! How do you think we ended aggression in every other circumstance? The time has come, for a booming echo of the booming echo. Let’s put on some Lenny Kravitz and “Dig In…You Know You’ll Have Yourself A Good Time!” -Christopher J. Bradley From The Fallen Rubble an Olive Branch Trembles By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 6:34:24 AM From the Fallen Rubble An olive branch trembles In the grasp Of the tear streaked eagle. After the moment of calamity Remains the silent voice of the enfuried survivor To croak and groan in one voice “Our war has begun yet it is not the answer.” Tanks Amphibious Transports and Aircraft All Are Loaded and Barrelled The Treads grinding on bare earth With Wings cutting Blue Sky And Battlements Adrift on Dark Sea. Beneath the waves are the Tridents. Locked in Def-Con Synchronization Prepared to fly given the command “May God Keep NATO in Line.” And yet the spirit lives on In the corridors of corporate offices In the audiences of the blockbuster screens In the baseball fields of the Niagara suburbs. In the smile of a happy engaged waitress In the shoe stores and the outlet malls In the Big and Tall Men’s shops On the well lit Boulevard at dusk. In the Blues Bars and Subways of Manhattan In the Science Museums where the children run free In the galleries of Art and Nostalgia Through the radio and television networks. In the International Space Station’s Labs On the global wilderness of the Internet On the tips of the tongues of the new millennium academic In the grade school teacher’s lesson plans. In the endless vending of cigarettes and prescription pharmacology On Every dime or Quarter put toward a soda pop. With Every bag of Microwave popcorn And at Every Chippewa Sausage Stand. It could be said that some boxes had been better unopened John Denver’s little ball called war might never have been bounced But as with every harmonic frequency Friction will reduce the rippling As the oceans of tragedy subside And the Kingfisher finally discovers A perch on which his branch May finally come to rest. Chi and The Art of Kawasaki Ninja Investments By Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 They've tried to put me into reform school a couple of times. I enjoyed the experiences immenslely The fights over cigarettes The stolen silverware The whole shebang. But I took a lesson from Chingachgook and the like In silence to take my time And in loudness to hammer the target with the whistling arrow. They think you are stoppable when you move with slow feet But they don't consider the weight too often. Three hundred and sixty pounds creates a lot of momentum A light car weighs only fifteen hundred. And so I am a walking freight train A wordmith with keys that lay down like hammers in the forge. My sword will fit the gloved hand of a Marine As well as it will fill that of any rogue poet. I am going to rise above the curse of Hamlet As I have a steel horse and he didn't And take my Ninja to the edge Of the envelope containing the Scrabbled market whips Unending strips of ticker tape Rattle unfettered Beneath my toes And the Iron Cage Is truly made of little more than balsa. For under the Osaka sky There is a young girl Who rides at sunset Into the Banzai of a Chinese New Year Her palm pilot hugging her leathered breast With a screen flickering Noisecontrol… Noisecontrol… And the Horizon falls behind her While the rest of the world Stuck in a UK panic Wages war for her kind of freedom And my name Escapes her lips In a warm embrace… No Legacy for The Mainframe 11/22/01 3:02:53 AM by Christopher J. Bradley Oh digital wonder Your time is going Far into the past With the likes of the betamax. Everything gets smaller The cellular implants are nearly here If not already. And you can carry the Vax of the eighties In your pocket. Legacy I laugh at you As I build my way Into a new century Where time Gets infinitely longer As circuits micronize and binarize Even your Goliath Will fall to my David. Are there parallel universes? 11/22/01 2:39:21 AM by Christopher J. Bradley If there are parallel universes Am I also writing there? And is it possible to send a letter To the past me of the present To let him know that he is not alone? Does his hand ache like mine? As he holds the round pen Scribbling as fast as I. Has he typed played the piano Discovered electronic music? Has he taken photos of rockets Or danced for five hours at a stretch While eating oranges? Who are my parallel selves? Will they join me in my journey? Or will I join them in theirs? And what of our brothers in name But not blood? What of them? May they all succeed. Discovering A Lost Piece of Boston By Christopher J. Bradley 3/18/02 4:39:02 PM It is about 4:39 in the afternoon And I find myself sitting in an IHOP An International House of Pancakes On Maple Road in Amherst. I was told to look into this when I was here Before I left for Boston By Bearded Bob At the time I thought the world of him. His description had been dead on They are clean And Lively And a last remnant Of the pancake houses of days past. They outlived Perkins. And appeared here magically this year. I am glad to have somewhere to come With good music And bean town personality. Even though the power outlets are a stretch from the ground Looks like I'll have to charge my laptop before coming over But at least they don't mind it so much They are one of the few places that don't mind them And they have plenty of space to work with. I anticipate I'll have more to say After I have my Terryaki Mushroom Burger. Higher State on a Tuesday 12/18/2001 8:32:20 AM by Christopher J. Bradley “This Is The Higher State Of Consciousness” I Listen To Josh Wink As I Type About The Week’s Events. 3 Visits To The Chiropractor A Flat tire A New TV Dinner at the Super Buffet A Lotto Ticket. Seatbelted driving A Trip to Andy’s A Jack The Ripper Flick Some Page Building Over DSL A New Tire Purchase Spaghetti Pizza A Tomato Sandwich Donuts Bannanas A Chimichanga Coffee Lots Of it. Messages On Deja Noise Control and A Worldwide Café Postings On Everypoet Problems With Outlook Express and Netzero Two Well Placed Letters To Yahoo Customer Service. Complaint Call To New York State Insurance division Several Calls To National Benefit No Answer Fax Attempts No Answer. Sleep Lots of It Corey Hart Sunglasses At Night Calls To Andy Scott and Adelphia No Connection To Any Of Them Powerlink Signup And Lord of The Rings Happen Tomorrow. I cannot share my deepest thoughts here. By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 5:43:32 AM I cannot share my deepest thoughts here Not among the endless cups of boiling coffee And blues singers wailing on the radio Not among the cubicles in neat perfect rows. I look often for a place to bind to For a companion to comfort me Someone who’s toenails I could clip After a bottle of champagne in a warm bath towel. We would talk And I would tell her how she hasn’t been The only one I’ve ever cared for But that she was the first to ride By my side saddle in the new Mustang. But somehow I think The fantasy of that whole stanza In the greater work of my ultimate comedy Cannot be fate or destiny For as I improve I find myself seeking After something more tangible An individual who can be all of these Wild urban debutante Jennifer Lopez fantasies But that yet I can trust. The Horse Shoe Crab By Christopher J. Bradley 11/22/01 2:44:50 AM Dedicated to Robert Bradley There were fish swimming everywhere at the Aquarium All different kinds of fish Spiny Alien Zebra fish like you would never see In the Saint Lawrence by the docks. And there was a seal who did tricks And balanced a ball on his nose To throw to the dolphins in the big central pool Of the big blue circular building. And an electric eel that shocked My Dad and I In the darkness On the hour. The event that I can still feel in my spirit Is my encounter with the touch tank Where I had a chance to play with the starfish And the big shelled and spiky tailed Horse Shoe Crab. Creating and Organizing Lists By Christopher J. Bradley 11/22/01 3:08:56 AM I never would have thought That organizing lists of items In virtual space Could be so interesting. I have recently collected A list of message bases And lists of movies And Recording artists To place on-line To enhance the value of my database. As my library gets larger Strange new opportunities might unfold. I am already beginning to find fans in strange places. One of them is a German racecar driver. Who knows what is next? Maybe I can get Gates to look down here If I keep working at it. The House that Jack in The Box Built By Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 Dedicated to all of the would be couriers Jack was a humble craftzman He wore his Jester's cap And Danced among the crowd for weeks He tested the vibes of the product And he liked it. So he decided he would share it with his friends And then found that they all wanted it More people than he thought he knew Started coming to him So he started buying wholesale And forgot about Peter And the wood stacked up against the wind But silicon was beneath him. The market grew steadily And after a while the house had a roof Then running water And a speaker section. He had a Mercedes to get from home to the office And a digital satellite radio And the tunes vibrated at the edges of his ray bans And the house was finished and sturdy. Until the water came up the beach And the Electricity that wasn't up to code Blew the walls out in a blast of blue flame And Jack's sports car exploded in the garage. To see the look on his face From across the ocean As he wrestled with the sides of the box Was like watching a mouse spin a wheel in a Habitrail. And the music plays again With each step In the same boxes On the same beaches. Vaporware v. 1.0 11/22/01 2:32:41 AM by Christopher J. Bradley From the gas station to the Bookstore Or somewhere in between I lost a pack of cigarettes And now I want to scream. But somehow in the midst of this I've almost made my mind Decide they're not the Ritz of it Someday soon it's quitting time. Potato Chip Breakfast By Christopher Bradley 3/24/02 How many times have you Found yourself At 5 am Munching on an open bag Of Lays potato chips? An interesting question. French Onion dip is a delicious food When you can find it on-sale And someone doesn't get to the refrigerator before you do. The container and the bag Are perfect for snacking When you don't have to worry about that troublesome extra person That only seems to confuse you anyway. Chips for one I say In the darkness of early morning. Let the paperboy earn his keep And when he arrives tip him well But don't give up the best kept secret That one day he too will end up With a bag a bowl and a nice big television. Rediscovering New England in A Time of War by Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 And so today is the beginning of the new dawn Of a time where the search for New England has been answered. Quietly and with patience I have discovered it. It is hiding in the bank across town And the church toward the river And the café with the smoking lounge And the bookstore with it's volumes upon volumes of common text. There is myth that you have to find in the library And spiritualism to be found through a maple tree Or a pint of apple juice while shopping at the super market with your mother. The apple does not fall far from the engineer. In the community college the students sway To the professor's hymns of economics or psychology Running their fingers ruthlessly through each other's hair Their joints break-stepping in Latin grooved Levi's. The women and men and girls and boys Move among each other in the freedom of the moment Each with careers to pursue Or toys to trade Japanese cartoons cards are popular among the children. And a faintness of the birds and monkeys of Peru Echo's up from the south via satellite cloud While a hurricane of data washes the people of the moment Throughout the Telesphere. My homeland is slowly becoming a part of me And I am accepting my place here Proudly a twenty first century fourth generation Mohawk English Sharing space with the likes of a spicy broth of brethren and sisterhood. The ministers are not the only teachers of the young They are just the most pronounced authorities. We all learn from each other And nobody really listens to the television alone. I know that as I view my digital parchment There are others awake in the early morning hours Patiently waiting for their moment to bask in the summer sun And find that we are all collectively important. Our patriots triumph In the playoffs and game of the century To the parchment of Jefferson And the pen of our Chief Executive. If I alone could put an end to the evils to the world I would make every effort on my own So I ask Will you help? And if so Can I shake your hand as a neighbor in good faith? Finding an Old Friend on The Web 11/22/01 2:23:20 AM by Christopher J. Bradley I found Pat's website on WorldTwitch I was unable to find anything previously Perhaps because I wasn't looking I had been previously in my searches Self concerned and not in expectation of my friend's potential notorieties. But now that I know what is possible I will keep my eyes opened A little wider So that I might discover Some more of my friend's successes And add links to their publishings To my list So they can be there Even in times when they are not. How Her Fingers Danced By Christopher J. Bradley 4/24/02 It was evening in the X-Ray lab Of St. Mary's Hospital. The air was cool outside But I hadn't needed a jacket For the long walk from the blacktop drive To the steel cased entranceway. There was no introduction Just my name on a card And some preliminary information about my spine And within a few minutes I was face to face With the girl with dark hair. She was like out of a memory Clicking away at the keyboard And I found it hard to look away From her fingers Snapping the Keys. Individual Strokes to the plastic. How her fingers danced A Rhyhmic pounding That would have been loud like a hammer If they hadn't been dulled by the fans. The Infared and medical papers Swarmed around her as she wrote In virtual space Somewhere I hope to be If this tapping ever ceases. For a French Poodle By Christopher J. Bradley 3/16/02 Dedicated to Pierre Your fur crest Rested high above your brow When mom made you up And you were brushed out right Several times a year. I remember how you walked When your legs were straight With a high stance And soft shoes. You danced Not unlike Dixie Dust But with more pride In a white cotton moment While the stones of our gravel driveway Shifted under countless sets of new tires. I will find you again Dancing in her arms When heaven reaches me And she will introduce us both To our Maple Tree Which will blossom with fresh buddings In the eternal Spring-time Of Norwood's Winds… As they race To The Stars Slowly Spinning Above Our Home-yard. Coreon Surface Pressure By Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 Dedicated to Moby and S. Hannam For what seems like centuries You've kept us entertained In a way that I would have liked to do my whole life And the tension continues to build As you leap to catch the five rings That hold themselves fixed high above even you In the stratosphere of the global village. The battle call has been given Flags fly high in every Nation of the world And the enemy holds no post While Jennifer Lopez struts on a passionate USO stage We know that our struggle is both public and private And the lieutenants in both sides are unseen. So on this fifth anniversary Of my friend's marriage I reconsider what might have happened If my car had never gotten stuck in the mud. And I hadn't had a strange goatee. On a cool and rainy march afternoon. I felt like I stood alone in the midst of it all Yet you were all there Even those that I didn't know And the music was still with us all Vibrating under the tables In the subways and headsets Of the pedestrian streets Of New York and Toronto. Some say that the new media revolution is over But I say it has just begun For the few holding the strings now Have to pass them on at some time And what better time Than when their children are churning up hay From the muddy ground On which we once tilled grain. A piece of corn Under the Nitrous enhanced lights Of a summer circus tent United our circle And by the grant of the one who has called us to this earth Will unite us once again. There will be no regrets when we reach Oz For the wizard will be revealed And he will give us a heart a mind and a badge And we will all find our own way to the place where we were raised. Resources in a Bookstore By Christopher J. Bradley 11/22/01 2:35:47 AM Before I leave this place I think I'll take in a page And possibly finish my coffee Which is larger than expected. There are volumes here Containing chapters and pages Limitless And yet I find myself Making short strokes on legal paper Considering what the future of the moment might hold. March 18th 2002 By Christopher J. Bradley 3/18/02 I don't believe I had noticed before The drab looks on the faces Of the college students Of the region on March 18th more. It was very noticeable this year. Imagine the increase in consumption That reliving that horrible day 6 months and 7 days earlier Must have created. Each of them looked like they were stammering In a slow recoiling manner As they stumbled on to the campus grounds at 8am. And I do not wonder That many still had it on their breaths. What good would a peanut butter sandwich do For lunch When breakfast was at 4AM In a pancake house Or from a pizza and sausage vendor Down near Franklin and Chippewa. The Toxicity of March 17th Takes away from the snakes fleeing Ireland On that fateful day Under St. Patrick's Stewardship And I pray That one day The snakes will once again Be cast out Of the modern world. MP3 Recordings at Andy's By Christopher J. Bradley 11/22/01 2:58:23 AM Andy has a powerful computer He can run a high speed video game While downloading music from the net On DSL. If I can I will visit Andy And maybe burn a CD If Favorites to mix into Music CD's for my other friends And family. I hope he sticks around To keep me updated on the latest technology So that we can move forward As the screens of the world Become thin. Cooper's Virtual Forest (Last of the Mohicans) 11/22/01 2:14:24 AM by Christopher J. Bradley It breathed at me in the opening pages And the English and the French And the Native runners And the daughters of the General took life. Now I begin Chapter Two And find that the story Whose conclusion I know Has left much unsaid In VHS format. I plan to journey into that forest Page after page Day after Day Until I find myself surrounded In the leaves of the paper On which I write. The Doris Day Movie 11/22/01 2:19:22 AM by Christopher J. Bradley We turned the film on On satellite TV To keep my mother happy On a day when my sister was leaving. I found myself enjoying The garden of Eden joke And the psychedelic footage That made the car chase scene So patently not today. Tide By Christopher J. Bradley 3/18/02 I can actually remember missing laundry detergent Having an urge to go out the store to buy it. There is something in my current marketing class That I need to understand Why did I need it so much? I've developed an innate need for the ridiculous blue colored liquid. I use it to clean all of my clothes Regardless if it is the type with bleach or not. I've grown not to care about that. For some reason using the crystalline powder that Purex offered Doesn't fit the bill Having both I would still choose Tide And yet I do not understand why? Ever since I remember washing my own clothes I remember most using Blue Liquid As a favorite. Maybe it's because the crystals stick to your fingers And all of my Chemistry classes taught me that when water touches that There can be a reaction. I have never tried mixing Purex with anything But I do wonder at times what it might do? Would it make orange juice fizz? Not that you could drink it after that But would it generate some kind of massive release of gas Due to Acid and Base connecting in an unusual way? To stay safe I think the best policy is to keep that crystal stuff outside the home It looks too much like candy And It can't be good for pets. Who might get it up the nose. The Tide has that neat bottle Which keeps the blue juice upright In that orange wave of a bottle And it cleans like magic Even those gnarly socks from last week. So here's to Tide And many fortunes To It's makers I'll keep surfing Until your Wave Crashes Out. Tangled Arms and Legs By Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 It's been 12 years since that first moment When I was so exposed Found in the comfort Of the caress of my bride to be And then later Drawn into the craze of a Canadian punk rock girl In Red Blue Jeans. Wearing a White Mesh fabric That perfectly accentuated her perfect form. The tangled arms and legs Of a college summer Contrasted with an underground winter And the hamburger job that followed Left me with the feeling that I'd given up something important And that missing element then Were my values. I have now been able to carefully discern some of what they are. And I am more cautious now when meeting these delicate creatures with their perfume For they are not as delicate as they seem They have their careers to think about And the nail polish isn't for show. It's kind of like sharpening your favorite blade. Which in a sense I guess Is kind of cool But I need more than someone trying to get at my love from above I need a level focus with them And I need the tangle to turn into a union With a proper dialogue That doesn't come to an end. Please Whoever you happen to be this time Let me hand you a rose And I will remove the thorns If you will put some Aspirin Into the water. Repaying Debts By Christopher J. Bradley 3/24/02 As I repay these small debts I wonder if I will become indebted again. The time slowly trudges forward And with it the expenses follow. I have been given so much And yet I find myself unsatisfied With sitting in a room filled with life's toys And furnishings given as gifts. At a time when I am appearing in the newspaper The shock value of it all keeps me awake at night Watching Artificial Intelligence And wondering about the significance of the quest for humanity in my life. I was not born machine And so I believe If I can become more than an instrument of profit seekers Possibly I can grow to brighten the world and my self-concept. And so the question to be asked now is Who do I begin my lending with? So that sharing becomes more than A glowing screen In the darkness Of night. Pringles By Christopher J. Bradley 3/18/02 They look like a bunch of people in a Pringles Commercial Making faces about the fact that none of them can get to what's in the can When in fact they could more than afford to spend their time buying another can If they wanted. They live in rented houses Where they can smoke drink and do whatever else they please Yet they have to come out in public And intrude on the space of people Who intend nothing more than to attempt to better themselves Through text. Damn them. Those who can afford to live alone Should be required to And leave those of us Who can afford only to live Under the magnifier of public scrutiny Out of the photo tube. Buy yourselves another can of Pringles And let me finish my damn cup of coffee in peace. On Getting The Cat Stoned on Catnip By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 5:51:34 AM I sit in the big black leather chair In Andy’s Apartment on occasion Watching Entertainment tonight While he finishes up a video game. I watch him follow the cat to the center of the floor And somehow he can innately tell That the intelligent Grey fur ball is Asking for its fix. The small cup on top of the television stand Is loaded with the stuff It looks like chewed up Grey confetti And he takes the substance in his thumbs And gives the cat a pinch. The cat’s back arches to the to the floor And it rolls its’ head and neck in the stuff. It’s like an electrical shock to his disposition. He writhes in enjoyment Licking at his coated patches of hair! And to think This very cat Single handedly Burned out his Computer Monitor With fuzz. Looking For The Right Girl To Marry By Christopher J. Bradley 8/6/2002 7:04:54 AM The Right Girl For Me Would Not Be Interested In Substances Or Shallow Conquest Or The Pursuits of Fiscal Bondage. More Importantly Of She Would Be Actively Seeking Spiritual Enlightenment And She Would Understand That I Enjoy Consumer Technology. She Would Be Interested In Watching Major League Baseball In The Skydome In Toronto. She Would Enjoy Traveling To Visit Friends But Her Goal Would Be To Live In Her Family’s Hometown. She Would Require That I Be Responsible And Give Me Plenty of Reasons To Stay Healthy So That We Could Enjoy Long Fulfilling Lives She Would Tolerate My Many Musings Over Science And The Infernal Machine And She Would Be Romantic And Poetic And Enjoy Candle Light Dinners. And She Would Sing To Me Just Every Once In A While Even To The Radio As We Drive She Would Bake Cookies With Children At Christmas And I Would Carve The Pumpkin On Haloween And She Would Have Good Conversations With Me Not Expecting Me To Be As Intelligent About People As She Would Be We Would Write Out Birtday Cards Together And Find Our First Home Together And Share Moments That Know One Else Would Have To Intrude On. Except of Course The Dog But He Sheds So Who’s Counting? Gyros and Dreams about Gyroscopes By Christopher J. Bradley 8/6/2002 6:58:13 AM For Each Passing Day That Passes On and On I Wish Again and Again That The Gyros Wouldn’t Be so Tempting. And While I sit Here Drinking Coffee And Smoking Marlboros Given To Me By A Friend Who Fills Out Crosswords I Find That I Am Deeper Into The Mindset Of Studying War Vehicles Than I Would Like. And That Every Turn A Veteran or Ex Veteran Approaches I Am Glad to Know However That I Am Not Alone In My Musings Over High Tech Fighter Planes And Other Miscellaneous Elements of Hardware and Software I Do Wonder However Who Will Be Receiving Their Orders Next. Which Edge of the Universe? By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 6:07:52 AM Which edge of the universe Will we travel to from Hollywood this year? Will we journey into the outer reaches of Vega? Or will we travel smashing back to Earth on a hurtling Asteroid? Will we survive the next potential Nuclear Winter? Or find ourselves in the depths of the Atlantic on a caterpillar drive Submarine? Will we find ourselves along the fault lines Of a living Mars? Or between the Loops of Jupiter? I believe that these tested markets Are ready for a fresh perspective Another Fantastic Voyage Perhaps among the Synaptic Surges Of The human Mind. After all We are in the midst of the connection Between Man And Machine. Physical Therapy 11/22/01 2:28:14 AM by Christopher J. Bradley Perhaps the best thing that could have happened In this whole travesty Is the physical therapy. I am finding myself walking more now Even though my back is sore And I am also finding myself Stretching and excercising more In an attempt to heal. My excercises include wall slides Shoulder pinches An exercise bike And stretches on a theraball. I have been able to lie on my stomach and read For the first time In a couple of years. Walter and The Moon Buffet By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 5:59:32 AM It’s about a year ago summer And we’re walking into the moon A Chinese Buffet on Sheridan My Mother My Aunt and I. And I spot him there as we are seated The half Cuban half Puerto Rican Pizza Chef Back from The Allen Town Days And Sal’s He’s having a great time with his friends. I wish I had the physical time And instance of circumstance to get up And ask him how he’s been doing But I don’t. I hope he doesn’t recognize me Instead. But he remembers And after all of the Emperor Chicken And Pork Fried Rice And Mussels He does say hello to me. As I am smoking in the front Waiting for the ever resilient ladies In my life. The Bubble Tea Café By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 6:17:10 AM At the advice of a couple of Asian Raver Fraternity Dudes And A Girlfriend I Ventured Into The Bubble Tea Café. The Place Was Very Toronto Stylistically – Lots of Fashion and Car Magazines Lining Its’ Racks And Tables. For 3.15 I had a drink Whose name I can’t pronounce Made by a Thai barkeep Who told me about the tapioca balls At the base of the cup. It tasted like an Iced Cappuccino With the added benefit Of the Consistency Of Tapioca A memorable taste That I will have to try again. A Message From God in Webster By Christopher J. Bradley 8/1/2002 6:22:36 AM I drove into Webster on a clear Saturday morning In my beat up ’99 Saturn. Hoping to find Jodi After a Stop for a Juice and and English Muffin At the Princess. I successfully avoided a run in with a Pimp there He was harassing the waitress Trying to act like he owned the place And surfing through newspapers with his girl. When I left cautiously I headed down Main Street in Webster Planning to stop at my friend’s home But on the way there The voice on the radio said In a blaring and triumphant voice From the depths of everywhere “Mustangs!….$299.00….Webster Ford!” So I stopped at a Friendly’s along the way And bought a bagel and got directions. I was the first customer to drive up And walk into the showroom To negotiate. The salesman was slick and savvy and Italian From the final price we worked out You might think I’d have bought a Ferrari But I am convinced Every Minute I drive into the future That the voice of God has visited me At least once In Recent Days. Ambulation in Amherst 11/22/01 2:09:42 AM by Christopher J. Bradley After speaking with my therapist I decided to go for a walk again As prescribed. The walk was more relaxing today There were fewer people And I thought about Christmas As I passed the singing Bears of the Boulevard. I stopped to charge my cell phone And buy a pack of Milds And now I sit listening to Bing Crosby At the bookstore café With a pen and paper As I did a year ago. Holly and Glitter Leaf By Christopher J. Bradley 11/22/01 2:51:15 AM People decorate each Christmas season With Holly and that indefinable metal coated leaf stuff That hangs at the center of wreaths On front doors. And they buy and give candles as gifts Oh what we wouldn't do without candles Candles can be wrapped with that silver stuff also And centered in bunches of evergreen spines. To be placed on holiday tables For Thanksgiving and the 25th. The candle without ornament Would still symbolize life But with ornament I believe Is a designate of our value for life. May the candles keep alight And the doorsteps keep bright with tinseled decorum As we shine through this holiday Regardless of the whims Of those who would try to change Our way of life. One World Indivisible By Christopher J. Bradley 8/6/2002 6:48:17 AM Nation Upon Nation Democratic or Otherwise We Are United Under a Common Mission A Statement That All Life is Worthwhile Regardless of Moral or Ideological Position Mindless of Pigmentation or Enlightenment That No Man Woman or Child Should be Un-Necessarily Sacrificed In The Pursuit of Greed for Power or Wealth. That Every Living Species Both Plant and Animal Might Be Considered The Most Valuable Contribution To Our Spiritual Harmony. For It is not without caution That we should proceed Ethically To Preserve The Greater Goods Of Health Prosperity and Spirituality For Every Member Of the Global Citizenship. We pray to our heavenly advocates That they might bring us closer to Spiritual purity and vision to protect And Nurture Future Generations. That The Saga of Our Home Planet’s Histories Might Be Told Long After we Have Passed Into Spirit! Category:Catalog